


At the Dying of the Day

by Mythdefied



Category: Hercules: The Legendary Journeys
Genre: Gen, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-30
Updated: 2013-10-30
Packaged: 2017-12-30 22:29:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1024125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mythdefied/pseuds/Mythdefied
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Strife let the corner of his mouth twist up ever so slightly. “I <i>am</i> the plan.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	At the Dying of the Day

**Author's Note:**

> Missing scene from “Judgment Day.”

The last golden edge of the sun disappeared, leaving a bright red stain in its wake, leaking across the horizon. Strife watched, unblinking, as the green was leeched from the fields, the trees, the grey stone of the courtyard soaking in the red hue spreading out over the earth, flowing closer with each moment, until it pooled at the tips of his boots, red seeping into black.

It was time.

The muffled sound of heels striking stone echoed dimly from inside the temple, drawing closer, but Strife remained as he was, unmoving on the threshold, arms crossed as he looked out over the reddened landscape. The footfalls stilled behind him; the edge of his cloak fluttered lightly at the shift in the air.

“I called in a favor Morpheus owed me. You have until dawn.”

Somewhere up in the trees, a raven cawed, harsh and croaking. Strife blinked once, slowly.

“No ‘clever’ improvisation, no last minute changes; you know the plan -- follow it.”

Strife let the corner of his mouth twist up ever so slightly. “I _am_ the plan.”

“So is this.”

Breath ghosting over his ear. A movement in the corner of his eye, black and metal, but Strife didn’t turn, didn’t move. Ares’ arm stretched out before him, a dagger in his grasp. When Ares opened his fingers, leaving the dagger balanced against his palm, then Strife allowed a small, appreciative sigh to escape.

He slid one hand out from under his arm, reached out and took the hilt of the dagger, letting his fingers slide around the cool hand guard for a moment before grasping it firmly. The fit of the leather-wrapped hilt in his palm was like a homecoming. He held it up, turning it slowly, letting the crimson hue of dusk slide down the edge of the blade.

“Want me to pass on a message right before?” he asked, bringing the blade in close. “A little goodbye to Serena maybe?” He pressed it lightly against his lips, eyes drifting shut at the feel of cold metal, as familiar as a lover’s kiss. “Something for the little dear to remember you by?” The sensation of his lips moving against the blade sent a shiver through him.

“No.” Bitten off and hard and Strife opened his eyes with a small frown.

“Just get in there, do it and get out.” 

Pressing the tip of the blade against his chin, resting it there, he nodded once.

“And, Strife?” Voice low, tone even harder than before and this time Strife half-turned to look at him, his frown deepening. But Ares had already turned away. Back to him, Ares’ shoulders tensed as he spoke: “Make it quick.”

There was something almost soft in the way he said that. Almost. Strife tilted his head, looking at him curiously. But Ares remained still and silent.

“Sure thing, Ares,” Strife said, slowly lowering the dagger. “Whatever you want.”

No response and after a long moment, Strife looked away. Gaze fixed on the horizon again, he watched the bright crimson darken, a herald of the coming darkness. Sliding the dagger into his belt, he pulled up the hood of his cloak. He had work to do.

 

Fin

**Author's Note:**

> Another old story from my files, again written in October '07. I have no idea why I never posted these. These, IMHO, were some of the best work I did in this fandom.


End file.
